


Down for the Count

by thelittlelion



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Infidelity, M/M, Physical Disability, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7323472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlelion/pseuds/thelittlelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time ago, Aaron Burr was a promising ballet dancer, until an accident promises he’ll never dance professionally again. </p><p>Enter, Alexander Hamilton – the loud, aggravating, mess of a man who has two weeks to learn how to dance before his wedding.  </p><p>A Modern Dance AU. For @auronburr</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down for the Count

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auronburr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=auronburr).



> A gift for auronburr for my 500 Kudos Celebration~
> 
> Prompt: AHHH congrats on 500 kudos!!! For a one shot idk this is really not specific but any kind of dancer au would make me super happy <3 - @auronburr

“Aaron, can I talk with you a second?”

Aaron pauses, looking up from the laces of his street shoes. Angelica’s black pumps are sharp, trapping her on the other side of the dance floor. It’s strange to see her outside of nylon and spandex, a crisp grey pencil skirt and fitted maroon top hugging her tightly. Seeing the expression on her face, Aaron picks up his bag and hurriedly shuffles over.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

She waves off his concern, one hand pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I’ve just had a long day.”

Her defeated tone makes him frown. Angelica is hardly one to complain. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

She takes his arm, leading him to a bench in the hallway. Aaron feels a familiar flash of annoyance flush through him, before he pushes it down. Angelica only means well. He sits, leaning his cane up against the wall and turning to face his boss.

“What can I do?”

She sighs, the noise more aggravated than it ought to be. “You know my sister’s wedding is soon, right?” He nods. She and Eliza had come bustling through to her office last week, gushing over wedding plans. “Well, there’s been some trouble with the wedding dance. It’s just the basics – a waltz, a few steps for a tango. I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

“You need my help coaching?” he guesses. “Not that I mind, I’m surprised you don’t do it yourself. That shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Alexander and I have some history,” she says. She hesitates, glancing away from him, fiddling with the watch around her wrist. “I made myself promise I wouldn’t spent any more time that I had to alone with him – for Eliza’s sake. I _tried_ teaching him with the rest of the party this morning. It was a walking disaster.”

She slips her head into her hands, digging her fingers into her hair roughly. Aaron has never seen her like this. She’s always been so composed.

Her words hit him a second later. He reads between the lines.

 _She’s in love with him._ And, even worse – _He’s marrying her sister._

For once, he doesn’t feel like the elephant in the room. He pats her back hesitantly, relieved when she doesn’t shirk him off.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll do it.”

She looks up at him. Her face is as exhausted and frazzled as he feels. “Thank you.” She takes his hand, squeezing tightly. “Really. Thank you. Please don’t hate me when you meet him.”

He can’t say he isn’t beyond curious to meet the man who captured not one, but _two_ Schuyler sisters.

“I promise.”

 

*

 

They set a time for the studio three days later. The only time this Alexander seems willing to meet is when most people are asleep, so Aaron finds himself arriving at Sky Lark Studios at 11pm, having spent the morning teaching first position to five-year-olds and assuring an increasingly frantic Angelica that he really didn’t mind.

It’s not even a lie, though he’s annoyed for her sake, wondering how she could ever have fallen for someone so clearly inconsiderate.

He unlocks the studio doors with a sigh, immediately going to the break room to put on a pot of coffee. It’s later than he’s used to. He shimmies out of his jacket and shoes, stretching lightly in the sweats he wears underneath. He glances at the clock as their appointment time ticks closer, eventually ticking right past the hour. _Unbelievable_.

Of course, it’s just as he’s debating leaving that he hears the jingle of bells in the lobby. A raised, “Hello?” rings out a moment later.

Aaron takes a deep breath, grabbing his cane and stepping out of the back.

“You’re late.”

At first glance, Angelica’s Alexander isn’t much to look at. He’s dressed well enough, in an expensive suit that probably cost more than a month of Aaron’s paycheck, but he wears it with a sloppiness that sets Aaron’s teeth on edge. It’s unbuttoned, the shirt beneath hanging half-untucked. His hair is falling loose from its tie, hanging in in his face, lending him a manic energy. He grimaces at Aaron, more baring his teeth than smiling.

“Alexander Hamilton,” the man says swiftly, turning toward him. “Angelica mentioned your name was Burr? I would have been here sooner but I got caught up at work.”

There is, quite noticeably, no apology. Aaron shakes his hand regardless, releasing quickly.

“Aaron Burr. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get started. I have plans later this evening.” It’s patently not true, but Alexander seems to buy it. He claps his hand together, nodding sharply.

“Agreed. The less time wasted on this the better.” He smiles, as if he didn’t just insult Aaron’s entire profession.

Aaron grits his teeth and does not scowl.

“Quite.”

 

*

 

They hit their first obstacle before they even reach the dance floor. Alexander stares blankly at him when Aaron tells him to get changed, looking down at himself as if just realizing he’s wearing a suit. There’s nothing to do but lend Alexander a pair of his own sweats, slightly smelly, but at least dry from his duffle bag. He waits as the other man changes, smirking slightly when the he appears out of the locker room, shirt clinging tight across his broader frame.

Alexander picks at it, grimacing. “Is this really necessary?”

Aaron hides his smirk. “Yes. This way please.” He turns, leading Alexander down the hall to one of the smaller practice rooms. He switches on the lights, making his way over to the sound system and loading up Angelica’s wedding mix on his iPod. He turns back around, examining Alexander as he stands to the side of the floor, clearly trying not to look intimated. It’s a look Aaron’s seen before.

“Okay, let’s see what you can do. To the middle, please.”

Alexander steps forward, squaring his jaw. Aaron is pleased to have knocked him out of his comfort zone at least, though he knows it’s not the best place to learn from. He leverages his cane against the mirrored wall before stepping up to meet him.

“Place your right hand on my lower back, left hand outstretched in front.”

Hamilton’s arms rise. Aaron can barely feel his hand when it touches his back (too high). He corrects the position, pushing down on Alexander’s shoulders, lifting his elbows, before he finally steps into the frame himself, assuming the follower’s position. He curls his hand around Alexander’s shoulder, the fingers of his right hand resting lightly in Alexander’s left.

“Alright. This is your frame. Now, we’ll start with a simple box step. You start with your left.”

He walks him through the steps slowly. Apart from looking at his feet as all new dancers do, he’s not that terrible, certainly better than Aaron would have guessed given Angelica’s dismay. He grasps the pattern of the steps quickly enough and doesn’t shy away from assuming the lead. After a few minutes, Aaron decides they’re ready for the music.

Just as quickly, everything falls apart.

It’s not just one thing. The moment Aaron tries to put them in time with the music Alexander’s competence evaporates. He rushes, trying to catch the beat, and then stumbles when he finally does, slowing down far too quickly. His grip goes from barely there to clutching at the back of Aaron’s shirt as if that will keep them on beat together. His left hand clamps down on Aaron’s. He’s still leading, but suddenly he’s nearly _yanking_ Aaron through the steps.

Aaron’s knee fizzles out on one such jerk. His leg buckles abruptly, sending his weight crashing into Alexander’s. The man yelps sharply, but manages to catch him, just barely saving him from slamming his knee against the floor.

“Whoa! Hey, you okay?”

Aaron pushes off him, gathering his good leg underneath him. His left knee flounders when he tries to step on it, a familiar pulsing ache beginning sharply, but it gives him just enough strength to hobble his way back to the wall where his cane rests. He ignores Hamilton’s attempts to aid him, glaring at him until he withdraws his hands and steps back.

He gets his cane in hand and leverages himself up against the mirror, taking the weight off his bad knee. His face is flushing, humiliation pouring down his spine. Rather than face himself in the mirror, he turns on Alexander, glaring.

“You are _not_ going to do that again, understand me?”

Alexander nods decisively, wide eyes darting down to Aaron’s leg before coming back to his face. “Are you okay?” he asks frantically. “Do you want to sit down or something? I could get some ice?”

The concern _burns_ him. Aaron shakes his head, sharply. He points back at the middle of the floor.

“Again!” he barks, “And hurry up. I don’t have all night.”

He leans back against the mirror, watching with narrow eyes as Alexander reluctantly takes position by himself in the middle of the floor. His bad knee begs at him to sit down, but he ignores it, pressing his weight up against the mirror behind him.

He is going to regret this later.

He taps down on the boom box with his cane, hitting play. “Again.”

 

*

 

They don’t get much done after that. There is only so much Alexander can learn without a partner and Aaron’s knee refuses to make that a possibility. They call it quits just past midnight, with Alexander having mastered the _idea_ of a box step, if not the actual practice.

Alexander’s quick exit when Aaron calls for an end doesn’t leave any lasting doubt about the success of the session.

At home, Bullet whines as he eases himself slowly into a warm bath, water sloshing out onto her coat. He wraps his fingers into her soft fur, leaning his head back against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall. She licks his arm, soft brown eyes boring into him.

She’s been with him since he’d left the hospital the first time – back when a wheelchair had spelled the end of his world. Now, her face is speckled with white and she spends more time lounging in bed with him than helping him cross the street, but she’s still invaluable.

She whines, licking his hand, when the water’s gone cold, dragging Aaron back from whatever vacant space he mind had wandered to. Her tail wags when he finally straightens up, pulling the plug from the drain, and hissing as he leverages himself up.

“I know, girl. I’m getting out.”

She supports him as he climbs out, waiting for him to latch onto the counter before fetching his cane from the door. His leg stick outs awkwardly, knee useless. He swallows his pills dry, slaps on his brace, and then follows Bullet into bed.

For his pride, he spends the night in agony; knee screaming murder until he forgets what not to be in pain feels like. At three in the morning, he gives in, texting Angelica that he won’t make it in and swallowing another painkiller guaranteed to knock him out.

He finally falls asleep as the sun peeks out above the horizon.

 

*

 

Anything to do with Alexander Hamilton is exactly what Aaron does not want to wake up to, so of course he gets the man himself.

He picks up his phone groggily. “Hello?”

“ _Yes. Hi. This is Alex. Listen, Eliza told me I really ought to apologize for last night. I’d like to make it up to you. Are you busy?”_

“Alexander?” Aaron sits up slowly, glancing at the clock on his nightstand. “How did you get this number?”

_“Angelica gave it to me. Well, she gave it to Eliza and I got it off her phone. Are you home?”_

“I’m sorry, I’m not coming into work today,” Aaron says, tightly. He throws off his covers, shifting his legs off his bed. He’s relieved when his knee does nothing more than pinch, as he bends it – no worse than usual.

He stands, making his way slowly to the bathroom, patting Bullet as he passes her on the foot of his bed.

_“Yes, I know. I stopped there first.”_

“First?” Aaron stops. A terrible suspicion comes over him, crawling down his spine. He straightens. “Alexander, where are you?”

_“Oh, I’m outside. Would you let me in? I brought you coffee – half a cup, anyway. Some idiot bumped into me on the subway on my way here.”_

“No.”

Aaron lowers his phone as he says it. He grimaces, rubbing a hand over his face, suddenly very sympathetic to Angelica’s exhaustion. He can still here Alexander’s voice even as he holds his phone away at arms length.

He turns, dragging his feet to the door. Alexander in the morning is only slightly better put together than Alexander at night. He extends a cup of coffee like a peace offering, grinning in a way that makes Aaron doubt he’s on his first (or third) cup this morning.

Aaron sighs, taking the offering. He opens the door and the man scurries in, craning his neck around Aaron’s small apartment curiously.

“How do you know where I live?”

“That I did learn from Angelica,” he admits, still grinning. “She was pretty pissed when I told her about last night. Yelled me right out of the studio telling me that if I didn’t fix things with you she’d kick me out of the wedding herself.” He shrugs. “So here I am. How are you doing?”

“I’m going to kill her.”

Aaron turns, stalking into his kitchen as best he can, annoyed when Alexander follows.

“Hey, no, don’t do that,” he says quickly. “Coming over was my idea, she just bent to my insistence. I really am sorry for last night. I’m kind of a terrible dancer.”

It’s the first actual apology Alexander’s given him, plucked clearly against resistance from his ego. Aaron sighs. He takes a sip of coffee – surprised when even half full it registers as his order. Alexander must catch his look, because his smile quickly rebounds.

“Angelica _did_ let it slip how you liked your coffee. She’s worried, you know?”

Aaron does know. He’d tried to calm her as much as he could over texts, before he’d slipped into sleep this morning. He sometimes thinks he knows her anxious face more than he does her smile.

He takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly. No, he won’t take out his own shit on an inexperienced dancer – not even one as annoying as Alexander.

“You’re not _that_ terrible,” he says, finally, watching as Alexander blooms instantly.

“No, I really am,” he denies. “I know it. I really should just tell Eliza I’m not cut out for this dancing shit.”

 _And leave the bride disappointed._ Aaron thinks not.

“That’s ridiculous. Anyone can learn to dance. Here, I’ll show you.”

He snatches away Alexander’s coffee, setting both cups on the counter behind him. He puts his weight on his good leg, taking a bamboozled Alexander’s hand and moving him quickly into position.

He tests his knee, satisfied when it does nothing but twinge at him.

“Alright. Step left first. Now go.”

He leads Alexander through the first steps, feeling his hesitancy slowly dissipate as they complete a few small circuits.

“Now, take the lead,” Aaron instructs. “Gently this time. It should barely take any pressure.”

Alexander complies reluctantly. Their steps slow as Aaron stops leading, then gradually pick up as Alexander gains confidence, directing him with a feathery touch on his back.

Alexander picks up his eyes from his feet just long enough to flash a smile at him.

“We’re doing it!” he crows, excited.

“Good,” Aaron affirms. “Now relax your hand.”

Alexander complies, the grip on Aaron’s hand loosening immediately. Aaron hums, pleased, letting Alexander feel it out as they take a few more turns around his tiny kitchen. It’s nothing fancy, just a simple box step Aaron’s taught a thousand times before, but he finds himself smiling at the delight on Alexander’s face.

“Alright. Now try it with your eyes on me.”

This, of course, is the hardest part for new dancers. Their steps stall as Alexander’s focus changes. Aaron can practically _feel_ him trying desperately not to step on Aaron’s feet. He’s charmed by his determination.

Eventually, Alex gets it. Their movement takes on that familiar cadence as they travel in circles in the tiny space. Alexander grins brightly at him.

“We did it!” he cheers, elated.

“You did it,” Aaron corrects. They come to a stand still slowly, hands lingering in their frame. Alexander’s face in triumph is something to marvel. Aaron thinks he catches a glimpse of what Angelica and Eliza must have seen in him.

The thought distracts him. He steps out of the frame, feeling the loss of warmth as Alexander’s hands fall off him. Alex’s arms waver for a minute before dropping. His dark eyes crinkle as he smiles at him.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Aaron has almost forgotten about last night. The reminder dims his contentment, but he finds the sting has lessened from before.

Time, he’s learned, heals most wounds.

“Well, I don’t have a choice, do I?” he jokes. “Angelica will make sure there is no wedding if I don’t. And you’re not as hopeless as you thought.”

 

*

 

So, he has two weeks to get Alexander ready for his wedding dance. He wants to at least get him comfortable with a simple waltz and tango, a task that is easier said than done.

When Alexander leaves his apartment that morning, Aaron has just introduced him to the basics of a turn, working him slowly up to a real dancing speed. They’d set a time to meet two days later, again late in the evening to accommodate Alexander’s work obligations (he’s in some sort of law, Aaron learns).

Aaron goes back to work the next day, calmly assuring Angelica that yes, everything really was fine and no, he wasn’t angry with her that Alex showed up at his house. He ends up getting an invitation to the wedding out of it, though he doesn’t exactly know if that’s a blessing or a curse. All the weddings he can remember have been a bit of both, though it’s been a long time since he was invited to one.

When she gets trapped on a call about misordered Bride’s Maids dresses (“Best people,” she corrects irately into the phone), he ends up taking on her beginners’ ballet class. He really doesn’t mind, content to spend his morning teaching pliés and first position to a clan of tutu clad toddlers.

It’s a cheerful enough morning for another reason. Alexander having gotten his number the day before, Aaron receives an increasingly humorous barrage of texts throughout the day, each growing drier and drier as Alexander drones on about his work colleagues. His harsh wit is refreshing. Aaron finds himself laughing aloud at several intervals, responding with a few of his own anecdotes, though he doesn’t even come close to matching Alexander’s for pure volume.

So he’s in a better mood when he rolls up to his second session with Alex, especially when he sees his appointment waiting outside the studio already dressed in loose clothing.

“I changed at work,” Alex explains, bounding to his feet as Aaron opens the door. “This is okay, right?”

“That’s just fine,” Aaron assures him. They get started without any more preamble.

It’s not. . . great, Aaron admits, but Alexander is definitely not the worst he’s ever seen. He’s gone back to looking at his feet again and his steps still fall to pieces when Aaron tries to add real music in. Aaron can feel Alexander growing more and more frustrated, the muscles in his shoulder’s growing tenser, even as he leads with an exceedingly delicate touch.

Before Aaron can change tracks, Alexander has hit a wall. He hisses as he misses another step, falling off tempo again. Cursing, he throws up his hand and retreats.

“I don’t fucking get it! What am I doing wrong?”

Aaron’s been there before. “You’re doing fine.” He accepts that they’re now on break, stepping to the side to get a water. He pours some over his head, wiping off his brow with a towel, before easing himself to the floor.

Alexander hesitates, staring at him, before abruptly slumping and joining him on the floor. He takes a water.

“I _know_ the steps,” he complains. “I know I know them. I even practiced, by myself, like an idiot. This should be easy.”

Aaron raises his eyebrows. “You think dancing is easy?”

Alexander whips around. He winces, pink dusting across his nose. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he backtracks quickly. “Not all dancing, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Aaron repeats, dryly. He enjoys watching Alex squirm, hiding his smirk in his bottle.

“I just mean that I should be better at this,” Alexander says finally. “I’ve practiced. I know the steps. How hard should adding music be?”

Aaron only hums. He can’t really answer that. Rhythm has always come naturally to him, a part of how he started dancing to begin with. But he knows what comes easily to him is not the same for most other people.

“It’ll get easier,” is the best he can come up with. “You’re getting better.”

Alexander snorts. He tilts his head back, chugging down his water. His throat works, skin shiny with sweat and glistening under the lights. Aaron blinks, glancing away, a shard of guilt burrowing into his gut.

_He’s getting married._

Right. Aaron has a job to do. “We should keep going,” he determines decisively. He starts to get up, only for Alex’s hand to clamp down on his arm, dragging him back.

“Wait. Three more minutes,” he begs. Aaron hesitates, then folds, dropping back down to the floor. Alexander’s thigh knocks against his own. Aaron swallows, scooting a few inches to the right. He hadn’t even realized they’d been sitting side to side.

“How’d you do it?” Alexander asks.

“Do what?”

Alexander shrugs. “Learn how to dance. Did you always know you wanted to teach?”

Aaron very carefully hides his wince. Alexander wouldn’t understand how that stung. How would he know that very few people went into dancing just to teach? Looking at Burr, with his ruined knee and hobbled walk, it’s little wonder he’d just assume.

“No,” he says, casting his gaze to the floor. “I started ballet when I was young. My parents were dancers. I didn’t come into teaching until later.”

He doesn’t really want to talk about this. Already he can feel regret piling up in the back of his throat. Almost as quickly, he finds Alexander’s hand on his, squeezing him tightly.

“Sorry,” he says, face strangely downcast. “I shouldn’t bother you.”

Aaron stares at their clasped hands, hollowly. It’s been such a long time since he’d had to tell anyone his story. He’d woken up in the hospital with a million doctors and friends and reporters telling him _exactly_ what he had lost. Sometimes it doesn’t even feel as though he owns his own story.

He squeezes back.

“It’s okay,” he says. He’s looking at their hands, studying the interweaving of their flesh – dark against light and back again. Alex has ink stains on his palms, climbing up his wrists. Aaron’s nails are bitten close and ragged.

“There was a car accident,” he begins slowly. Alexander’s thumb moves, rubbing up and down the back of his hand. He focuses on it. “I was badly injured and my partner, Theodosia, was killed.” He shakes his head.

“After I woke up, I spent a year in a wheelchair undergoing operations to save what was left of my mobility. I could walk again, but dance – my dance – was out of the question. Angelica knew me from school and heard my story. She invited me here to teach. I’ve been here ever since.”

He lapses into silence. It feels strange to hear it all said aloud at once. More often he catches snippets of his history passed in hissed segments when people don’t realize he can hear.

Alexander drapes an arm over his shoulders, pulling him in. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he says, quietly. “You must miss her.”

 _Her._ Aaron breathes out, feeling something creak in his chest. He’s used to people focusing on his disability, pitying him for his lost promising future. No one has mourned for Theodosia with him in years.

“Thank you.” He means it. He wipes away the wetness that’s gathered around his eyes, squeezing Alex’s hand. “Really. Thank you.”

Alexander just nods. He keeps his arm around Aaron’s shoulders, body warm against his side. “My mother died when I was young – my cousin a year later. When people learned, they used to feel sorry for me. They’d tell me how hard it must be to be an orphan, as if I didn’t know. Then a hurricane hit my hometown and they found something else to pity me for, like one tragedy outweighed the others. I remember feeling like they’d just disappeared.”

It’s Aaron turn to stroke Alex’s hand. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he says softly. He can feel Alexander nod.

They sit in silence for a little while. Everything seems at once too heavy and too light. After a minute, Alex snorts, nudging him in the side.

“Look at us,” he chuckles. “We’re as bad as two teenage girls.”

It breaks the tension abruptly, the gloom giving way to giddy laughter. “You clearly never met Angelica when she was younger,” Aaron teases. “She’d punch you for that comment.”

Alexander laughs. “ _That_ I believe.”

They slowly untangle. Aaron pretends he doesn’t see Alex wipe at his face, discretely doing the same himself. Alexander stands up first. For once, it doesn’t sting when he takes the hand that offers to pull him up.

His insides feel light. He finds himself smiling broadly, strangely elated.

“Alright,” he says. “Time to add the music.”

Alexander groans good-naturedly. Aaron loads up the queue before stepping to the middle. Alexander’s palm presses against the base of his spine with an easy familiarity, lifting Aaron’s hand without prompting.

“Prepare your toes for the worst,” he warns, teasingly. Aaron matches his smile.

“Please. I’ve had worse.”

He doesn’t know which feels better: joke about his disability for the first time or the warm peals of laughter Alexander lets out when he does.

 

*

 

 _This is getting dangerous_.

Angelica corners him three days later. In that time, Alexander has mastered the box step and can pull off a few simple turns with relative ease. Aaron is determined to get him into a tango before the week is through.

If they keep meeting every night as they have been, it shouldn’t even be that difficult.

“Okay, what gives?”

Aaron waves goodbye to his swing class – made up mostly of hipsters and the elderly – before he turns reluctantly to Angelica.

“Pardon?” He steps around her, picking up his iPod and busying himself with wrapping up the cord.

“You’re being weird,” Angelica says, prodding him in the arm. “Spill. What’s going on?”

“I’m not being weird,” Aaron denies. He grabs his cane, hobbling out of the room, Angelica hot on his heels.

“No, you definitely are,” she says. “Who are you texting? I saw you in there – you never check your phone in class. It’s against one of your ‘ _rules’_.” She adds the appropriate finger quotes over ‘rules’, making Aaron roll his eyes. So, he had standards. As if Angelica was one to judge.

“No one important,” he answers, shortly. “Its just Alexander.”

Almost instantly, her expression flattens. “Tell me he isn’t bothering you. I _told_ him to leave you alone.”

“I thought you told him to make it up to me,” Aaron says. She shrugs, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Yes and _then_ I told him to stop messing with you. I’m sorry about him. He has zero conception of boundaries.”

Aaron raises a brow. “You sound thrilled about him,” he marks, dubiously.

Angelica scowls. “I’m just not sure Eliza made the right choice with him. She _says_ she knows him better, but I know him too. He’s a mess. He doesn’t even have to _try_ to hurt people, just being around him is enough.”

Aaron winces. Angelica is pulling no punches. “You’re just trying to look after your sister.”

“I know.” She sighs, running a hand down her face. She shakes her head, giving him a small grin. “I’m just ready for this wedding to be done with, you know?”

Aaron’s mind is filled with Alexander’s dark eyes crinkled up in laughter. He knows the curve of his mouth when he concentrates. He remembers the heat of his hand when it presses against Aaron’s spine.

_He’s screwed._

“I know.”

 

*

 

He tries. He really does tries to keep it professional.

 

“Okay. Come closer this time. Yes, like that. The tango is a little . . . ”

“Sexier?”

“. . . Sexier than the waltz. Right, now step forward . . . ”

He’s pretty certain it’s not fucking working.

_He’s getting married in five days._

Alexander snickers, attempting to bend him into an exaggerated dip. They’re way off beat. Aaron laughs, stretching back to indulge him. He comes up. Alexander’s leg is entangled with his own, his hand on Aaron’s back supporting him in case his knee weakens. Their chests press close together, heat against heat.

He’s broken a sweat in a way he hasn’t dancing in years. They’ve been at this for hours, growing progressively better, and in a way worse, as Alexander’s steps loosen up, freeing him to try his hand at several ridiculous movie inspired tricks.

Aaron can’t remember the last time he danced this long at one time. They’re moving slowly, Alexander supporting him more than the form actually calls for, letting Burr catch his weight against his chest or leg as they move. He hasn’t felt this strong in ages. There’s a carefree light in his arms he’d almost forgotten – the feeling of dancing without worry for the outcome.

Alexander dips him again, pulling him tight against his chest as he comes up. They’re both giggling faintly, close enough that Aaron can feel the little puffs of Alex’s breath against his cheek.

“One more time,” Alex grins. Aaron swats him on the arm, shaking his head.

“No more,” he begs, playfully. “I’m dizzy.”

“Ah, well, I have just the cure for that!”

Alexander starts up their steps again, leading them around the floor. They smash through the beat, snickering whenever they accidently land on the right rhythm for a moment.

“I lied, you’re a terrible dancer,” Aaron scolds him.

Alexander laughs. “Ha! Could a terrible dancer do _this?”_

He strikes out, letting go of Aaron’s hands just long enough to shove his head into his elbow, other arm flying out.

Aaron gasps. “Oh, you did not just _dab_ at me!”

Alex lifts his head, grinning. “I did. I really did.” He takes up Aaron’s arms, stepping back into position. “What are _you_ going to do about it?”

He’s asking for it. He really is.

Aaron moves decisively. He reverses their positions in an instant, pulling Alex in by his waist and flipping their hands. Alexander squeaks as Aaron begins to lead him around the dance floor, thrown by the change in footing.

“Think you can dance now?” Aaron taunts.

He proves his point by dipping Alex into like of those ridiculous movie scenes he so likes, smirking when the other man squeaks and clings to him for dear life.

“Okay, that is _slightly_ more difficult than it looks,” Alex concedes, after Aaron pulls him up.

“Welcome to my world,” Aaron returns dryly. He keeps the lead a moment, just rocking in place instead of trying to move.

Alex sighs, resting his head against Aaron’s chest, and that’s when reality hits him.

He stiffens abruptly. Something Alex must feel as he lifts his head, looking at him in confusion.

“You okay?”

He doesn’t even _seem_ conflicted. As if he could care less that he’s getting married in less than a week to a woman Aaron knows is incredible.

He thinks of Angelica’s frazzled appearance. He dreads to imagine what she would do if she saw him now.

Aaron steps back quickly.

“We should stop here for the night,” he says, aiming for steady – missing the mark. “It’s getting late.”

Alexander’s eyes flicker to the clock on the wall and back again. His expression drops, but he nods.

“Oh, I guess so. I didn’t realize we’d been here for so long.”

Neither had Aaron. He walks over to the mirror, turning off the music and shoveling his things into this bag. He doesn’t turn around when Alexander comes up beside him, though he tenses when he feels a hand run down his back.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

Aaron nods sharply, not looking up. “My knee,” he lies, gesturing down at himself. “I shouldn’t have danced so long on it.”

He tells himself he doesn’t feel guilty when Alexander immediately begins apologizing. He finishes packing up, playing with his straps as he stands.

“It’s not your fault,” he assures him, feeling even more guilt dig, sharp as glass, as he takes in Alex’s earnest expression. “Really. I’m alright.”

He waits as Alex gathers his things, feeling anxious as the time ticks by. Eventually Alex straightens, throwing his bag over his shoulders. Almost immediately he’s at Aaron’s side, standing several inches too close for comfort. Aaron takes a step to the side, trying to be subtle.

He fails, watching Alexander’s face dip down. He’s crestfallen when he looks at Aaron, sounds more hesitant than Aaron has heard in a while.

“Did I do something?”

 _No. You’re just following my bad advances_.

Aaron knows Alexander has fallen for their easy camaraderie, never suspecting that Aaron might want something more than their budding friendship. Aaron _shouldn’t_. He knows about Alexander’s impending marriage. He’s met Eliza _and_ he’s best friends with her sister.

“It’s not you,” Aaron says, shortly. He starts walking towards the exit, Alex following a step behind.

“Really?” Alexander counters, “Because it feels like I did something and you just don’t want to tell me.”

Aaron feels the first real flicker of annoyance. Why can’t Alex just _drop it?_ He’s trying to help him.

“I said it’s nothing,” he snaps. It’s less satisfying when Alex abruptly veers in front of him, stopping him in his tracks with a stubborn twist to his mouth.

Aaron almost growls when Alex reaches out, laying a hand on his arm with a more tender expression.

“See! There!” Alex crows, marking Aaron’s flinch. His bore into Aaron widely. “Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it. I promise I didn’t mean it.”

_He doesn’t even have to try to hurt people, just being around him is enough._

Angelica’s words echo through him. It dawns on Aaron what this is, right now. Alexander is about to ruin his own life – and Aaron’s if he doesn’t stop them.

He pushes Alexander’s arm away, ignoring the shock that plays across his face.

“Look Alexander, Angelica told me.”

Alex’s face abruptly shutters. Aaron ignores the churning in his gut, as his arms cross over his chest.

“Told you?” His voice is low, fragile. Aaron pushes past his guilt, nodding his head.

“I know you’ve hurt people before. I don’t want to be the reason it happens again.”

Alexander takes a step back, as if he’s been struck. After a beat, his wide eyes narrow. His face twists, upper lip curling.

“You know what? I don’t need to take this from you. I’m done!”

He turns sharply, storming out of the room. Aaron feels regret bite him in the stomach, shoving down the urge to charge at him.

_You couldn’t catch him if you wanted to, Burr._

He scowls down at himself, sneering at his leg. As if to spite him, it gives a warning spasm, just enough to let Aaron know he’s going to regret this moment for a long time

As if he didn’t know already.

 

*

 

It’s surprising how quiet his world can go.

He feels like someone has pulled a bag over his head. Everything seems muffled. He goes home, pours himself a drink, takes his pills, and throws himself to bed – sleep, work, repeat.

It’s so long since he’s been this low it almost feels overdue, his previous happiness a mirage building up to this inevitable letdown. He recognizes the sluggishness creeping into his limbs. Bullet takes to following him everywhere around the house, licking his hand when he stands in one place for too long, having forgotten what he’d gotten up for in the first place. Mostly, he just stays in bed, sleeping or watching reruns while curled up around her side.

Apart from a few stray messages from Angelica, his phone remains a useless, empty box on his nightstand.

He spends one night staring at the surface, message open and blank. He fills it one-hundred times over and deletes it every time.

Alexander is gone.

 

*

 

Four days after, Aaron shuffles out of the locker room, trudging his way toward the door. Bullet’s nails scratch against the smooth floor, body next to his, ready to brace him if he needs it. He doubts he will, but he thought better of stepping out of the house without her this morning.

He’s tired. He just wants to go home.

“Aaron? Aaron Burr?”

_Of course._

Eliza Schuyler – the soon-to-be Elizabeth Hamilton – steps out of her sister’s office coming towards him with a nervous expression. Aaron stops, stroking his free hand through Bullet’s fur as she sits next to him, bracing himself for whatever she could possibly need.

He wonders what Alexander told her – if he told her anything at all. _Blamed it all of me if he’s smart_.

Aaron grimaces. “What can I do for you, Ms. Schuyler?”

Eliza sends a cautious glance behind her, where the door to Angelica’s office stands open. Aaron can make out Angelica and the other sister – the one he’s only met a few times, Peggy – arguing loudly inside. She winces, gesturing ahead.

“Do you mind if we walk and talk?”

He nods silently. Together, they step out into the parking lot. Aaron shivers as the wind begins to bite him.

They stop near the corner of the building, Eliza pulling her thin coat tighter around her frame. She’s pretty - Aaron will give her that. It’s a shame she gave up dancing young. Her round face possesses an ethereal quality that would have played well on stage.

“I’m sorry for cornering you like this,” she says. “I spoke with Alexander last night. He was distraught – he wouldn’t tell me why until I mentioned your name.”

She sighs, arms crossing over her chest. Her hair whips in the wind, black strands curling around her fingers as she pushes it back. Every thing about her feels delicate – poised – so unlike his own lumbering body.

Aaron can see why Alex fell in love with her.

“I just felt so helpless. I love him, but he’s blocked me out; there’s nothing I could do. I knew I had to talk to you.”

Guilt, sharp as a sword point, pierces through his haze. He can’t meet her gaze, curling his fingers into Bullet’s fur.

He focuses on the first thing he can think off. “You’re still going on with the wedding?”

She nods once, squaring her jaw. “Yes,” she says, firmly. “I know Angelica’s probably talked to you about it, it’s no secret she doesn’t like him, but I think he deserves a second chance. He’s a wonderful man, once you scratch past the surface a bit.”

Aaron blinks. He believes her. She’s a better person than him. He can’t imagine forgiving someone so graciously.

“Angelica just wants to protect you,” he manages to say, mind coming up blank.

“I know,” Eliza says, sighing. “But if she really wanted to help me she’d support the decisions I make for my own life. I’ve chosen to forgive, Alexander. So should she.”

“I’m sorry.”

The words slip out before he can stop them. Once gone, he realizes it’s all he wants to say. He opens his mouth again, but Eliza shakes her head firmly, holding up a hand.

“Don’t be please,” she says. “I don’t need any more people feeling sorry for me. That’s not what I came out here to say, anyway.”

Aaron tenses. Here it comes. “

Don’t worry,” he says quickly, forestalling her.”I have no intentions of coming to the wedding. You and Alexander will be beautiful together. I’m not planning on seeing him again.”

“Oh, no!” To his surprise, she lunges forward, placing a hand on his arms. “Please don’t feel like you have to do that for me. I called you out here because I wanted to make sure you were coming.”

Aaron blinks, drawing back. “You want me there?”

She nods, decisively, squeezing his bicep. “Please,” she affirms. “Alex needs to learn that his mistakes don’t define us. I _want_ you to be there. It would mean a lot.”

What can he say to that? He feels a weight drop into his stomach. He _has_ to go, now. He hadn’t even thought that was a possibility.

_She’s a better person than me - than both of us. Alexander doesn’t deserve her._

Or maybe, Eliza is exactly what Alex deserves and it’s Aaron that’s the problem. He thinks back to their time together, trying to remember who pulled whom in so tightly the first time, attempting to pin point the moment when the line between instruction and real dancing began.

He looks down at his ruined knee and cane. Who’s he fooling? Who would fall for _him?_

“I’ll be there.”

Eliza breaks out into a wide smile. “Thank you!” she cheers. She really is beautiful.

Aaron just nods. He watches as she turns around, bustling back to the front door of the studio with a new bounce in her step. He doesn’t know how she does it.

“Eliza?”

She turns, looking back at him with a curious expression.

Aaron isn’t even sure why he called her. He’s not sure what he wants to say, but he feels he needs to say something.

“I think Alex is a great man. You’re making the right choice.”

He turns away when she beams at him, taking up Bullet’s leash and shuffling his way along.

_Alexander is making the right choice too._

 

*

 

He overestimates the time it should take him to get to the venue, arriving while a myriad of people are still scurrying around, arms full of flower vases and table clothes, wearing identical expressions of stress.

Angelica spots him before had can take three steps inside the door, descending on him like a bird from up high.

“Aaron! Thank God you’re here. I need your – Oh, you brought Bullet.”

Her irate tone stutters as she takes him in. He buries his hand in Bullet’s coat while trying not to fidget in his suit. He hasn’t worn one in years, but there were still several hanging in bags at the back of his closet. He’s surprised this one still fit.

“You look nice,” she says, the lines of her face softening. She steps forward, straightening his bowtie.

“So do you,” he replies.

Despite her obvious exhaustion, she looks beautiful. Her make up is set in place, dressed in a stunning yellow dress tailored to her figure. It’s easy to see how she captivated an audience, stranger still to think that she’d failed to capture Alex.

Her answering smile is a quick and fleeting thing. She bends down, stroking Bullet’s head, laughing when her tongue lolls out. She’s known his dog almost as long as he has.

“Should we get her a bowtie too?”

Aaron shrugs. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her. I didn’t realize how close this place was. I can sit with outside with her if you need.”

Angelica flattens him with a look. “Aaron. Please. You know it’s fine.” She bends down, rubbing Bullet’s face between her hands. “You know you’re always welcome. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

Bullet looks at Angelica adoringly, before glancing back at Aaron, grinning in her doggy way. Aaron laughs. It’s the first time he’s done so in days.

“Really, you look good,” Angelica tells him, straightening. Her gaze is too sharp. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

He ignores her all-knowing look, casting his eyes around the large foyer, taking in the thinly organized chaos.

“Where is the bride-to-be?”

“Driving me insane – and don’t even get me started on Alexander.” She sighs heavily. Aaron feels his chest constrict, before he forces himself to smile. She points a finger at him, studying him sharply. “Well, fine. If you’re fine then I’m putting you to work. Come on.”

 

*

 

She leaves him in a small antechamber overcrowded with blue and yellow flowers. All he has to do it take the prearranged bouquets and place them in a vase, filling it up with a fine white sand. It’s mindless work, but it gives him something else to focus on when he begins to feel the bile building up in the back of his throat.

When a loud voice sounds on the other side of the door, seconds before it pushes open, Aaron feels his modicum of peace shatter. He freezes, watching Alexander push into the room, yelling angrily into his phone.

“ – you tell that fat motherfucker to sit down and shut up! I’ll be there as soon as I can. No – I _told_ you I can’t come in today. No, I’m not joking.”

For a moment, Aaron thinks he won’t be noticed. He holds his breath, wondering if Alexander’s eyes will just skip past him. They don’t. Alex lets out an aggravated groan, holding out his phone as he casts his eyes around the room.

Aaron sees the moment they land on him, Alexander’s entire expression going lax for a moment, before his eyes suddenly thin.

“I’m going to call you back.”

Aaron has just enough time to stand up, before Alexander is on him. He stops a few feet away, crossing his arms, upper lip pulled back. Even with the sneer, Aaron’s chest tightens looking at him. His hair is pulled back, for once devoid of fly-aways. He looks comfortable in his tuxedo, wearing it with an ease that doesn’t come naturally.

His voice is harsh, dark eyes glittering like stone. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Aaron doesn’t let himself flinch. He pulls back his shoulders, squaring his jaw in preparation for the next blow. “Eliza asked me to come – and Angelica.”

Alexander scowls, rolling his eyes. “Of course she did.” He spreads his arms wide. “Well, here I am. Go ahead. I can take it.”

Aaron has no idea what he’s talking about. “I’m not here to fight you, Alexander,” he says, frowning. “I should be apologizing. I’m sorry _.”_

Alexander scoffs. He drops his arms, pointing at him. “You think _you’re_ sorry? _I’m sorry!_ I can’t believe I almost fell for it. Do you do this with all your clients or was it just something about me?”

His tone is growls like a feral dog. Bullet perks up, ears pulling back as Alex steps closer, rumbling a warning in her chest. Aaron rubs her head, reassuring her. He looks up, flinching under the force of Alexander’s glare.

“Just you.”

“Fantastic.” Alexander rolls his eyes, placing a sarcastic hand over his head. “Don’t I just feel special?”

“Alexander, please,” Aaron tries, stepping forward. “I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

Alexander snarls. “Oh? And what were you intending? Because I would really fucking love to know.”

He’s boxed Aaron into a corner. There is nothing he can say to defend himself. What is there? _I’m sorry, I didn’t_ mean _to fall in love with you. I’d try to stop, but when I’m around you I quit feeling broken?_

Alexander growls at his silence.

He steps closer, pressing a finger in Aaron’s chest.

“Just tell me one thing, okay? Just tell me – did you even really want it or were you just seeing if I would give it to you?”

Aaron’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. This close, he can feel the heat of the other man’s body, can see the individual lashes that frame his eyes.

He can’t lie. His chest aches, ribs creaking lowly. It feels like it just might kill him.

“I want it.”

The confession has barely left his lips before Alex is on him.

Alexander’s mouth consumes him. He surges, closing the gap between them before Aaron can think. Aaron groans, hands flying up to Alex’s hair, twisting him around in their kiss. He presses forward, burying himself against Alexander’s heat. The world comes back in full color, every sensation noted, every sounds Alexander makes noted somewhere deep inside.

He feels alive – truly alive – in a way he hasn’t since the accident. He forgets about his knee, drowns out his sea of regret in a flame of heat. The numbness in his body is burnt out, replaced by a fizzling sharpness.

Something keens highly. It takes Aaron a second to realize it’s him, not Bullet, making the noise. It’s just enough time to jolt him out of the moment.

He breaks the kiss, chest heaving. Alexander doesn’t stop, beginning to burn his lips into the flesh of his jawline, arms pressing up against Aaron’s suit, tugging at his lapels.

“We can’t.”

It takes everything in his will to push Alex’s hands away. He steps back, retreating, pulling his arms against his chest when Alexander looks at him, hazy eyes wide and confused.

“We can’t do this,” Aaron repeats shakily.

Alexander’s vulnerable expression slips of, anger crashing down like a door slamming shut.

“You’re pushing me away,” he gasps. “ _Again.”_

Aaron shakes his head, taking several more steps backwards, feeling for stability. “I’m sorry. We can’t. You have Eliza.”

Alexander’s eyes narrow. He stalks forward, following him. “Forget Eliza. I want you!”

“You don’t really mean that,” Aaron refutes.

“I do!” Alex growls. “I _want_ you. Fuck this wedding! You _said_ you want me! I don’t – ”

“Alexander!”

They both start at how loud his voice comes out. Aaron winces, reading the shock on Alexander’s face. He didn’t mean to yell. He didn’t mean to hurt anyway.

He slumps. He can’t look at him. He turns away, dropping his head into his hand.

“I can’t do this,” he says, quietly. He can’t look at Alex. If he does, he’ll never be able to look away. “I can't be that person for you.”

There a long beat as Alex stares at him. Aaron can’t read what he’s thinking. He wishes he could. He hunches, grateful that Bullet is with him, leaning against his good leg.

“Fine.”

Alexander’s voice is flat, devoid of emotion. Out of the corner of his eye, Aaron watches him turn away, stalking to the door. “Have it your way.”

Several vases rattle as the door slams. Aaron drops, falling heavily into a chair and burying his face in Bullet’s fur.

She whines, licking his face. He attention draws away his tears before they have the chance to really fall, but it doesn’t nothing to fill the hollowing feeling in between his ribs.

_It’s for the best. It had to be done._

The rationalization does nothing to stop the pain in his chest.

 

*

 

He misses the wedding.

He doesn’t really mean to, but he can’t force himself to get up when he knows he should. It’s only later, when he hears the distant thumping of a bass, that he realizes the reception must have started. He can’t hide in this room forever.

It’s over.

There’s almost a sense of relief that comes riding on that thought. He picks himself up, getting his cane underneath him, wiping off the dog hair the best he can off his suit. He peeks out of the doorway, relieved when the hallway outside is empty. He just needs to get out of here.

The music grows louder as he makes for the exit. He picks up on the chatter of voices, a woman’s laughter ringing out as he turns the corner. It’s a straight shot to the outside doors, but to get there he’ll have to pass in front of the reception hall, where several couples have gathered to get air.

He takes a breath and goes for it, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he hurriedly moves towards the door. He ignores the stares Bullet garners, relieved when his hand finally brushes the handle. He pushes it an inch forward, a slip of cold wind brushing against his face – and that’s as far as he gets.

“Aaron! Thank, God. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Angelica’s hand is on his back drawing him away from the door. Aaron sighs, going with her reluctantly.

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking down. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“I thought you’d might have fallen.” She bends down close – towering over him in her heels - examining his face with rigor. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says, gruffly. _This_ is what he hates, even coming from her. He shrugs her hand off his shoulder. She stares at him.

“You aren’t leaving, are you?”

It’s barely a question. Aaron can hear the disappointment dripping off her breath, harkening back to every one of her failed invitations. Aaron has built a life on the virtues of never showing up.

“I’m sorry.” He casts his eyes down, nails digging into his cane. “Give my congratulations to the Hamiltons.”

“What?”

Aaron waves his hand, frustrated. “Or the Hamilton-Schuyler’s. Whatever they hyphened it to.” He sighs, annoyance draining out of him quickly. “If you see Alexander, would you tell him I’m sorry? About missing their first dance and . . . ” He flounders. “Just tell him for me, okay?”

He risks a glance at Angelica’s face. Her brows are pulled together, mouth tilted unhappily down. Her eyes narrow at him, head tilting, gaze as assessing as a tiger sizing up its prey.

“Oh, no,” she declares, finally. “You’re telling him yourself.”

She snags his arm, physically pulling him away from the door. For once she isn’t gentle. He stumbles after her, working to stay in step with her fast strides. She only releases him once they’re well inside the reception hall, where a mass of bodies spills out over the dance floor.

She crosses her arms, glaring at him.

“Alright. You’re fixing this. I am not having this entire wedding ruined because Alexander Hamilton couldn’t keep his dick in his pants . . . _again!”_

She snarls the last word. Aaron flinches, quickly raising his hands. “I didn’t sleep with him, Angelica. It wasn’t like that. I would _never_ do that to your family.”

She raises her eyebrows at him. “Oh yeah? So there’s another reason that man is currently sulking at the bar – ruining my sister’s night, I might add.”

He can’t help but crane his neck, but the wall of bodies makes it impossible to make out the bar. “Look, Angelica. I’m really sorry, but you have to believe me. I _didn’t_ sleep with your sister’s fiancé.”

She snorts. “Oh, _that_ , I’m sure of. Look.”

She turns his shoulders, pointing him to the other side of the hall. Between the flashing bodies it’s still easy to pick up the woman in white dancing near the front. The bride turns, head thrown back in laughter – and _that’s_ when he notices the other woman dressed in a white tuxedo twirling her around the floor.

_What?_

“I don’t understand. You said your sister was getting married.”

“She _is_ , idiot! My _other sister_ – _Peggy!”_

It’s like someone poured ice water down his spine. He stiffens, gaping at the two women. The one in the tuxedo laughs, throwing her head back, and Aaron suddenly sees Peggy – long hair chopped tight around her skull, but still undeniably Angelica’s sister.

Aaron is flabbergasted.

“But you never said!”

Angelica shakes him, yanking his eyes away from the happy couple. She’s exasperated, but Aaron can see the smirk lingering under her exhaustion. “I didn’t think I had to! I _assumed_ you’d at least the invitation I sent you.”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t get an invitation,” he says, confused.

“Which I realized when I invited you again last week.” She rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Aaron, do you really think you wouldn’t be invited to my own sister’s wedding?”

Aaron’s eyes burn. She’s teasing him, he knows, but there’s a softness in her eyes that belie the words. He hadn’t even questioned it – and she knows it. She pulls him in, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“Please, Aaron, you’re basically family.”

He hasn’t had a family in a very long time. The last time he’d thought he’d might, his world had ended in a car accident ripping Theodosia and that reality away from him. He never thought he’d get a third chance.

He hugs her back. He usually hates this – avoids any physical contact that might be construed out of pity – but he relaxes easily into Angelica’s arms. He realizes he’s missed her, missed _this_. They’d lost something when he’d finally learned to rebuild up his wall.

They pull back after a long minute. Angelica discretely wiping her eyes and smiling at him. Aaron returns the look, but there is one thing he still doesn’t understand.

“But Eliza and Alex?”

Angelica shakes her head. “Old college friends, nothing more. They tried dated a while, until Alexander broke her heart – cheated on her actually. _That’s_ why I’m pissed at him. Eliza is trying to give him another shot at being friends, but I’m still not convinced the bastard deserves it.”

“Friends,” Aaron repeats.

Despite the bitterness in her voice, Angelica nods, smirking at him. “ _Just_ friends.”

“Oh.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Now are you going to tell me there’s nothing going on between you and Alexander?” He flushes. She grins. “I thought not.”

He hesitates. “I . . . In hindsight, I think I fucked up pretty badly. I doubt he wants to talk to me.”

“So help me God,” Angelica exclaims, “if you do not fix this thing I will murder you both myself. Now, I’m going to go and check on Eliza, seeing as how her date to this wedding is currently MIA, and I’m going to set her up with a new date– a better date – if I do say so myself. You go fix this.”

Aaron grimaces. “Are you sure? Maybe I should talk to Eliza first.”

He cranes his head around, but he can’t spot her. Angelica grips his arm, turning him around. “He was at the bar, the last time I checked,” she says, jerking her chin in that direction. “I’ll hang on to Bullet for you. You _do not_ want me to have to escort you there.”

He believes her. She nods at him – momentarily satisfied – before taking Bullet’s leash and deserted him on the side of the dance floor. Aaron turns in the direction she’d pointed him, straightening his spine in resolution before he wades into the bodies.

 

*

 

The open bar is packed, but not so much that Aaron can’t instantly make out the back of Alexander’s head as he draws near. It’s all he can see, the man resting his head on the counter with an utter air of disaster, earning himself a wide berth from the other guests.

Aaron takes a deep breath and moves into the space, silently climbing onto the stool beside him.

Alexander thumps an empty glass on the bar without raising his head. “One more,” he demands, when the barkeeper makes the mistake of drawing too near. Aaron intervenes quickly, snagging the glass out of his hand and meeting the bartender’s gaze.

“He’s cut off.”

The bartender shrugs and moves off. Alexander surges, rising up from his dejected pose with a fight brewing on his face.

“Hey, I’m done when I say I’m done and I’m not . . .”

He breaks off when he sees who’s beside him. Aaron can see the instant his walls close, eyes widening briefly with shock, before narrowing tightly. He scowls, turning back to the bar, giving his shoulder to Aaron.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Aaron winces. “You already asked me that,” he replies, stalling. Alexander fails to find the humor.

“Oh, that’s right. You love not giving answers,” Alexander says, almost snarling. “Well, here’s mine. It’s very direct – pay attention: Go. Away.”

The sharp tone is like a slap in the face. Aaron tries not to flinch, knowing he deserves it.

“I made a mistake,” he attempts, floundering.

“Clearly.” The sarcasm drips off his tone. “What could you have missed about _me_?” He gestures down his body, shaking his head. There’s something darkly familiar that Aaron recognizes in his voice. He shakes his head, firmly.

“I want you.”

Alexander rolls his eyes. “Now look who’s repeating himself. You already said that. Quite recently actually. Look at how well that turned out.” He twists, ignoring Aaron as he waves his hand. “Hey, can I get another drink down here?”

Aaron is growing desperate. This obviously isn’t working.

He slides off his stool. If Alexander doesn’t want him that’s fine, he can take a hint – but he _knows_ that isn’t true. Around him, he hears the beat change. Pop music gradually is replaced as something more traditional floats through – something familiar. It gives him an idea.

He takes Alexander’s shoulder, twisting his stool around.

“Hey, come dance with me?”

Alexander glares at him.

“Why should I?” he snarls. “Let go of my chair.”

Instead, Aaron drops his cane, using both hands to prevent Alex from turning back around.

“One dance and then I’m gone,” he promises. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

There’s a long beat before Alexander sighs, shoulders slumping.

_“Fine.”_

He follows Aaron only reluctantly to the dance floor, looking around irritably as other couples glide past them. For Aaron, it’s a familiar setting. He looks at Alexander, waiting.

“You’re leading.”

Alexander huffs. “Fine,” he repeats again. He opens up his frame, taking Aaron’s waist lightly, barely touching him. It reminds Aaron of their first session together. They haven’t danced this far apart since the beginning.

Alex glares away from him, not moving. Aaron takes a chance and squeezes his shoulder, watching the lines around Alexander’s eyes tighten.

“Start with you left,” he reminds him, gently.

“I know,” Alex snaps. He catches the next beat, clenching his jaw as he pulls Aaron along. Even despite the tension in his arms, Aaron can feel how carefully he leads him. He doesn’t yank; touch a feather barely skimming Aaron’s hand and back.

They take a turn around the floor. Aaron watches Alex maneuver them hesitantly through the other dancers, careful of bumping them. He shouldn’t worry.

Over his shoulder, Aaron can see Peggy and her bride performing a rather awful two-step. Angelica comes gliding around them two beats later, leading a giggling Eliza through an elegant waltz, meeting his eyes before they twirl around.

Her gaze is expectant.

“I want to try to explain,” Aaron says. Alexander still won’t look at him.

“I don’t see what there is left to say,” he says stubbornly.

Aaron is done beating around the bush.

“Alex, I thought you were cheating with me on Eliza.”

Alexander’s head whips around, face outraged. Their steps falter for a moment, before Alex corrects them.

“You _what?”_ he hisses. _“_ What did Angelica say to you?”

Aaron shakes his head quickly. “It wasn’t her fault. I misunderstood. I thought you were getting married Eliza.”

“ _Marrying her?”_ Alexander’s voice is rising shrilly. His hand clamps down on Aaron’s, eyes wide. “I just got her to _speak_ to me again.”

“So Angelica just told me,” Aaron nods.

Alexander just stares at him, jaw lax. He’s stopped moving, leaving them in the center of the floor as other couples twirl around them. Alexander blinks rapidly, the shock playing clearly across his face.

“So,” he begins hesitantly, “when you said you wanted me . . . ”

“I meant it,” Aaron affirms. He squeeze’s Alex’s hand. “I _mean_ it.”

“You do.”

A slow grin blossoms gradual on his face, overtaking his surprise. “You _do!”_

Without warning he spins them around, pulling Aaron tight against his chest. It’s the glimmer in his eyes that prepares Aaron for the dip, feeling elated when Alexander pulls him up even closer, entangling their legs together.

Alexander laughs. “I want you too, you idiot.”

Their frame breaks apart as Alexander pulls him in for a kiss. Aaron clutches at him, reveling in the warmth of his body. As ever, the kiss sparks a fire in his veins, leaving him flushed from head to toe until Aaron’s skin buzzing.

“Jesus, someone get those guys a room.”

They pull apart laughing, as Angelica and Eliza swing past them. Eliza’s face is glowing, beaming at them while Angelica smirks, pulling them away again, their hair flying.

“Come on,” Alexander says, clutching his hand. “I want to show Angelica who the real dancers are.”

Aaron let’s himself be pulled, marveling at how weightless he feels as Alexander glides them around the dance floor, half chasing the sisters. His knee doesn’t bother him; Alexander’s palm firmly pressed against his back, supporting him as they go.

Two weeks ago, Aaron was certain he’d lost this feeling forever. He’d resigned himself to a life in slow motion; watching, teaching, but forever stuck on the sidelines.

Now, he laughs as Alexander takes his waist and wiggles his eyebrows at him, face comically intense. He bends as Alex dips him, head falling backwards. His world turns upside down, becoming a sight of twisting legs and swaying bodies.

In that moment, there is nothing broken about him. They’re just another pair of legs waltzing on the dance floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos - loved.  
> Comments - adored.  
> Ghost readers - appreciated. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


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